Poems Bout a new home

How are you able to hold me all the way across the Atlantic

How are you able to wipe away my tears

And still tell me it is alright to cry

How can you make me laugh so hard I forget the trauma

How did I get so lucky

To have found a place

In hour

You said you have never felt so lonely and bores

In the cracks in my ceiling

A feeling

Of dripping

Sounds enter my body

Softly

Lately

I feel the holes envelop me

I ask the world to squeeze me tighter

Rock me and hold me

Sway like the breeze

I can then live in the cracks

An upset mind

With a sore body

Squeezing in the abyss

Home

I have a sore throat but you bought me ginger

My toenails are long but we have a clipper.

I get too cold

I have youe sweatpants

I crave chocolate

You have a stash

This is homesick

This is you being

In small bits

Here

And I slowly feel home in my home

Comments

Taron Hensley is a Pedophile.

Nine months later I emerge with the hopes of being vaccinated soon. FUcking hell. What a trip. This pandemic is going to require a lot of processing in the future but for now, I want to share and record some things I am very proud that I accomplished over this period of time. I was able to help start and run a campaign to eventually get my high school drama teacher who spread the rumor that I called the cops at a cast party which ruined my social life at that school while stalking me and my friends and constantly trying to get me in compromising and damn disgusting and gross situations. His charm to his superiors and the gaslighting and abuse of students has been heavily weighing on me in a way I have yet to fully deal with. I spoke out in high school and was silenced, threatened, and made to feel unwelcome. Yet the internet and living in a whole separate continent does wonders for confidence. I helped create a petition, gathered testimonies, and launched this campaign with my friends

Rainy Night Writing

There is something quite different about writing when it is raining outside than when it isn't. I despise my frozen toes and fingers, yet I love drinking chocolate almond milk with banana bread. It seems almost enchanting, like creativity is plopping on your rooftop. Writing in the rain, so odd. Writing in the rain It is like laughing during a thunder cloud, in perfect harmony with nature, rhyming and paralleling the weather, writing in the rain, creativity pours from you, as you hear the pitter patter, you wonder where the drops will all go, writing in the rain, a clean slate to begin again, a downpour of ideas, soon to come again, I love writing in the rain.

Outfits of Late Winter, and Early Spring

I hope you liked them!

Project Rainbow

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